


Set Fires For Me

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, Christmas, Dark Arts, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, Drama, F/M, Romance, Slytherin, romp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:58:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: Christmas 1968. Bellatrix desperately wants Voldemort's attention, and she'll do anything to earn it. But what she doesn't realise is that he's not interested in her flesh - yet. What he does want is the Darkness within her, and he's willing to teach her to bad in all the right ways, to make trouble while staying out of trouble, so that she can serve him.





	Set Fires For Me

She dressed like a whore.

She was going to the Malfoy family Christmas party, and her father had told her that  _he_  would be there.  _Him_. Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort.

Everyone only whispered that last bit. Everyone said it like it was a dirty secret, like it was some sort of nasty word one wasn't meant to say in polite company. But she wasn't polite company; she was Bellatrix Black. She'd seen him before at events, at gatherings, and she'd thought him so handsome that she could hardly stand it. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that seemed sculpted by an artist who desperately needed a shag.

More than that, she was enamoured by his politics, by the way he would move smoothly through a room and talk to people of so much higher birth than him like it was nothing. He obviously thought highly of himself, as so many wizards did, but it was like he'd intrinsically earned the respect. He was different, Bellatrix could tell. She wanted him to notice her.

He'd never noticed her before. She'd tried. She was only seventeen, and so she knew that perhaps her age was working against her in getting his attentions. But at a party at Malfoy Manor over the summertime, Lord Voldemort had hardly even glanced at her. He'd just nodded and said,  _How do you do, Miss Black_  to her, just the same way he'd done to Andromeda and Narcissa. Bellatrix wanted him to think she was different, to think she was special.

So she dressed like a whore.

She wore a strapless gown that clung to her like water. The magical sequined black fabric moved on her like liquid, shaping her small breasts and plunging almost to her stomach between them. It was floor length and swirled around her when she walked. She wore black satin gloves above her elbows and a diamond cuff. She wore her curls down and loose, shined up with Sleekeazy's. She painted her lips red and her eyes black. She stared at her reflection, and then her sisters came walking into her room.

"Oh, Bella. Mum's not going to let you wear  _that_ ," said poor little Narcissa, who was thirteen and hadn't even gained her curves yet. She wore a fluffy white and red dress, quite festive, with her blonde hair pulled into a bun atop her head.

"You look like you're going to break into ballet at the party," Bellatrix teased her, but Andromeda, who was fifteen and of sounder mind, stood in her jade green A-line gown and said,

"Bellatrix, you look like a whore."

"That's sort of what I was going for," Bellatrix mumbled.

"What? Why?" Andromeda demanded, and Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't understand. Let's go."

The girls were right. Bellatrix got quite a fight from her mother, and even more of a fight from her father. But she reminded them that she was seventeen, that she was of age, and that she could just Apparate to the party herself if she wanted. Either she went in the scandalous black gown, she said, or she didn't go to the party at all and they'd have to explain why she wasn't there. Her parents actually seemed to debate that option for a while before finally deciding to take Bellatrix to the party looking like a harlot.

It didn't work.

For the first hour of the party, anyway, it didn't work. He was there, circulating around, talking to people, and he didn't pay Bellatrix any attention at all. After awhile, she started to feel rather silly standing around at the party with her breasts hanging out, her waist and chest and shoulders so revealed, and she gulped as she approached the drinks table.

"Hullo, Bellatrix," said a voice, and she turned round to see four young wizards approaching her. She nodded in greeting. Nero Selwyn, Maximus Malfoy, Prentice Crabbe, and Rodolphus Lestrange were all Slytherin boys in her year. She held up a hand in greeting and said, rather embarrassed,

"Hi, boys."

"Some party, isn't it?" asked Selwyn, staring straight at Bellatrix's chest. She curled inward a little, and she muttered,

"The band's really quite good."

"Food's good, too," said Prentice Crabbe, his cheeks full of tarts. Bellatrix actually laughed a little at that, and then Rodolphus Lestrange looked at the others, seemed to gather a little courage, and asked,

"Bellatrix, can I get you anything to drink?"

"Oh." He was flirting. Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. She looked at the drinks table; it was right beside her. She could get her own drink, but it was kind of him to ask. She flicked her lips up and gestured to the table. "Erm… I'd like a rum punch, please."

"Rum punch. Straight away." Rodolphus came up to the table and plucked a little glass from the tablecloth, ladling punch from the bowl into the glass. He handed it to Bellatrix, who nodded her thanks and sipped. Rodolphus got himself some punch and swigged it, and Selwyn still stared Bellatrix up and down. He was making her uncomfortable, so Bellatrix asked,

"Nero, has it been too cold for flying over the holidays?"

"Never too cold for flying," Selwyn said. He and Malfoy were on the Slytherin Quidditch squad. Bellatrix nodded and shifted on her feet.

"We'll beat Gryffindor this year, I'm sure."

"Bellatrix, would you like to dance with me?" blurted Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bellatrix's eyebrows flew up. She set down her drink, feeling like she couldn't say no, and she shrugged.

"Sure. All right." She waved goodbye to the other boys, who all looked profoundly jealous with Lestrange for summoning the courage to ask before they could. Bellatrix walked with Rodolphus out toward the dance floor, and she noticed that he had a happy little smile on his face.

"Ah! Miss Black. There you are."

She whirled. It was  _him_. His voice.

"Sir."

She curtsied a little to him, though hardly anyone showed Tom Riddle real respect at Pureblood events. Lord Voldemort, as she knew him in her mind, walked up holding a flute of Champagne, and smiled first to Bellatrix and then to Rodolphus.

"Was I interrupting something?" he asked, but before Rodolphus could answer, Bellatrix insisted,

"No, sir. Of course not."

Voldemort smirked. Suddenly Bellatrix realised he knew he  _had_  been interrupting something, and he'd done it anyway. He leaned forward a little, toward Rodolphus, and he informed the boy,

"Do you know, Lestrange, I am a Legilimens. That young witch over there? Clarabelle Rosier? She has been waiting all night for you to ask her to dance."

"Really?" Rodolphus turned and looked at Bellatrix's pretty cousin Clarabelle, who was sixteen and tall and slim. Bellatrix nodded and insisted,

"Oh, Clary's so sweet. Go ask her, Dolph."

Rodolphus gave a little wave and then hurried off. Once he was gone, Voldemort tipped his head and sipped his Champagne, and he murmured,

"You're welcome."

"Thank you," Bellatrix grinned. She folded her hands before her, and she asked, "Why did you rescue me from dancing with Rodolphus Lestrange, if I may ask?"

"Because he's a terrible dancer. Steps on feet," Voldemort said. His eyes flicked from Bellatrix's eyes to her heeled shoes and back to her eyes. He sighed a little and licked his lip. "He can't keep a beat."

"I suppose you have perfect rhythm and would never step on feet," Bellatrix teased, feeling her heart race a little. Voldemort dragged his finger over the rim of his Champagne flute and then set it on the tray of the passing House-Elf. He held out his hand and offered,

"Why don't you find out for yourself, Miss Black?"

She thought she'd faint then. She thought she'd just collapse right there in the ballroom, oozing into a puddle of black ink on the floor. She put her fingers on his palm and walked slowly with him toward the dance floor, and when they reached it, he placed one hand in the middle of her back and held her hand. He was so tall, she thought, staring up into his dark eyes. His face was scarred in places, and he had a few wrinkles and grey hairs. But he was so, so handsome. He made her stomach twist. He made her heart accelerate.

They began to move to the slow but festive waltz, and Bellatrix said quietly,

"You're right, sir. You are a fine dancer."

"I heard you got into quite a bit of trouble at school before the holidays," Voldemort said by way of reply. "I heard you deliberately set the potions classroom on fire so it would have to be evacuated and you'd get out of lessons. Then you got caught and will have to serve detentions in January."

"Who told you all of that?" Bellatrix asked with a playful smirk, and Voldemort threw up one brow.

"Your father did. He's going to be working with me, doing financials. He was complaining about you, says you're always making trouble. I don't mind troublemakers, you understand. I prefer ones that don't get caught."

"Well, that's the rub, isn't it?" Bellatrix shrugged, and Voldemort leaned down toward her a little and whispered,

"I've done all sorts of things, Bellatrix, and I only got caught for a very few. I could teach you to be careful. And in exchange… you set fires for me."

Bellatrix couldn't move then. She couldn't breathe. She just stared up at him, and she nodded, and he whispered,

"Keep dancing."

She tried. She tried so hard to waltz, but eventually he just led her off the dance floor and stood before her, and he said quietly,

"Next time you want my attention, Miss Black, you don't have to show so much skin, you know. I'm not that sort of man. Enjoy the party."

Then he plucked two flutes of Champagne from the fresh tray as the House-Elf passed by, handed one to Bellatrix, clinked his glass against hers, sipped, and walked away.

* * *

_Dear Miss Black,_

_If you seek instruction in the sort of being bad where one doesn't get caught, come to the bridge crossing the pond at Verulamium Park in St Albans. Oh, and, rather obviously, do not tell anyone that's where you're going._

_You-Know-Who_

The letter burned itself up into a crisp as soon as Bellatrix had finished reading it, and she gasped and yanked her hands away so that they didn't get burned. The bridge crossing the pond at Verulamium Park in St Albans. That was awfully specific. She cleared her throat and thought of the place over and over again as best she could. She hurried to dress in warm wool and high black boots, for it was cold outside. She pulled on black leather gloves and a plush winter cloak. Then she padded downstairs in her parents' townhome and called to her mother,

"Going out for a bit. Be back later."

"Where are you going?" Druella Black asked, and Bellatrix didn't miss a beat.

"Diagon Alley," she answered. Druella didn't seem suspicious. She just nodded and said,

"Be back for dinner, dear."

"Yes, Mum." Bellatrix hurried out the front door and then Disapparated mid-step, whirling hard to her right and thinking,  _The bridge crossing the pond at Verulamium Park in St Albans._

When she came to, she was standing on a red brick bridge overlooking a half-frozen pond. A lovely, mostly-forested park was outstretched before her, and she studied her surroundings for a moment before a voice said,

"Always do a quick whirl around. You never know who's behind you when you land."

Bellatrix spun. She took her wand out on instinct, but he said lazily,

" _Expelliarmus._  You'll have to learn to be the first one to say that."

"You just like teasing me," Bellatrix noted, but Lord Voldemort approached her and handed her her wand back. He looked profoundly handsome in his own hooded cloak, and he told her,

"I want you skilled. I think you'll be useful. But right now you behave like a child, and that's not useful. In thirty seconds, I want you to Apparate to that bench over there." He pointed to a bench along the bank of the pond, for there was no one else about in the cold. "When you land, quickly look around and be the first one the Disarm someone you see. Ready?"

"Ready, sir," Bellatrix nodded. He smirked a little and Disapparated. Bellatrix's heart raced, and as she gripped her wand tightly, she shut her eyes and counted quickly to thirty. Then she Disapparated, coming to at the bench. She spun around fast, and she whipped her wand in a slice and cried out, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Voldemort's pale wand came spinning at her through the air, and she caught it as he walked out of the trees. He laughed a little and told her,

"Better. Much better. Oh, look. We've got company. Watch this."

He walked up to Bellatrix, plucked his wand from her fingers, and stood very close to her as two promenading Muggles neared, chatting in their puffy winter coats. Bellatrix could smell him, suddenly. Wood and leather. He smelled like a man. Of course he did; he was a man. But he smelled  _good_. She stared up at him, and he just quirked up his lips as he whispered again,

"Watch this. Ready?"

"Yes," she whispered back, unsure of what she was waiting for. Very abruptly, both Muggles tripped and fell hard, careening face-first onto the path before them. Voldemort laughed a little, but then straightened his face and his back and turned to face the Muggles.

"Oh, my," he said, surreptitiously tucking his wand away. "Must've been a vine or something in the way. They really should keep it better maintained. Are you all right? Do you need help?"

"Oh, we'll be all right, won't we, Daniel? Thank you, sir. My goodness. Oh, my lip's bleeding. Thanks for the help, sir." The Muggle woman and her husband staggered off, and once they'd gone, Voldemort held his hands up and asked,

"Didn't look like I'd done it, did it?"

"But they don't know you've got magic," Bellatrix pointed out. Voldemort tipped his head.

"Even so. I made myself look innocent. Always make yourself look innocent. Enough lessons for one day. You've learnt how to spot someone round you when you Apparate in, how to be the first to Disarm, how to make yourself look innocent when you've done the wicked deed. It's fucking freezing; would you like to go into town for some tea?"

"Tea?" Bellatrix asked disbelievingly, and Voldemort scoffed.

"It's a hot beverage people drink. Helps when it's cold outside."

"Oh. Erm… I'd love tea. Thank you," Bellatrix nodded, blinking in shock.

* * *

"Why did you dress like a whore?" Voldemort asked plainly in the Muggle tea shop where they sipped oolong ten minutes later. Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she struggled to give him a coherent answer. Finally, she stammered,

"I… I… I suppose I was desperate for you to see me, sir."

"To see you." He set his cup down and shook his head. "I always see you. That's a rotten way to try and get a man's attention. Look what happened with the school boys."  
"Yes. That'll be a fun mess to clean up when I go back to Hogwarts," Bellatrix said, pursing her lips. "They'll all be chasing me for months."

Voldemort snorted a little laugh. "Yes, and unfortunately for them, teenaged boys are particularly inept at realising when a young lady has no interest in them."

"I just wanted you to notice me," Bellatrix admitted. "I thought if I had my chest hanging out, you'd notice me."

"I noticed you because I heard you set the Potions classroom on fire." Voldemort sipped his tea. "Though, of course, your chest looked nice."

Bellatrix grinned and shook her head, feeling an odd sensation in her stomach. She poured herself a second cup of tea and dipped some shortbread into it.

"So," she said, "always be certain to look round immediately after landing. Disarm at once. Look innocent, actively, no matter what you've done. Those are my lessons for today. Why are you teaching me? You want me to be some sort of soldier for you?"

"Yes." Voldemort chewed his own dipped biscuit and sipped some more tea, and Bellatrix glanced around the bustling tea shop. She just whispered,

"Oh."

"Have you some objection to serving my political movement someday?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix shook her head wildly.

"No. I'd love that. I'd… that would be wonderful, sir."

"I thought as much." He flicked up the corners of his mouth and then dabbed a napkin to his lips, and he said, "I know more about you than you think. I know your past. I know what school subjects you enjoy - Potions and Transfiguration - and which ones you dislike."

"Runes and Divination," Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort continued,

"I know that you don't socialise with the girls at school, that the boys chase you. I know that you get on all right with your sisters, but that you keep your distance from most everybody. I know you had a cat at school, but that it died in October. Sorry to hear about that."

Bellatrix shrugged. "Catiban was very old; I'd had him for years before school. Thank you."

"Anyway. I've noticed you since you were a child, because you've always been very interesting," Voldemort said. "I'm only just now noticing you for the reasons you wanted, but you don't have to dress the way you did for that to happen. Your face is pretty enough all on its own; I don't need you making the Slytherin boys slobber just to catch my gaze. That's all."

"Oh." Bellatrix's throat felt very tight then, and she nodded as she whispered, "I'll bear that in mind, sir. Thank you."

"It's stuffy as can be in here; let's go, shall we?" Voldemort stood quickly and plopped a few Muggle coins onto the table. Bellatrix wasn't sure if he'd Conjured or Transfigured it or if it was real. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he didn't get caught. He just hustled outside with Bellatrix and asked her,

"Was the money real?"

"Probably not," she said, and he smirked.

"Of course it wasn't real. But I didn't get caught, as you well noticed. Never get caught, Bella."

Bella. She could hardly breathe at that. She just nodded and whispered,

"I'll bear that in mind, too, sir."

He cupped her jaw in his hand and bent down, surprising her by kissing her forehead. He stood up and asked seriously,

"Are you going to slap me?"

"No," she said, and he nodded.

"I knew you wouldn't. I assessed the risk before I did it. That's your final lesson for the day, Bellatrix. Always assess the risk of punishment before you do something. Like now. I am very, very certain that I am  _not_ about to get slapped. But let's find out, shall we?"

He bend and touched his lips to her cheekbone, right there on the sidewalk outside the tea shop, and he left them there for a few seconds. Bellatrix's breath hitched, and when he stood, he just nodded and said,

"Enough learning for today. Apparate home. Be sure to look about you. You never know who's behind you when you land."

And with that, he Disapparated and was gone, leaving Bellatrix standing alone on the cold street in St Alban's with the feel of his lips still on her cheek.

* * *

"Good morning, Miss Black. Just finishing up some Christmas shopping?"

"Yes, Mr Burke. Looking for a gift for my father. He's impossible to buy for," said Bellatrix, ambling slowly through Borgin and Burkes. She dragged her fingers over a crystal ball and then turned quickly at the sound of the bell chiming over the front door of the shop. She suddenly hid herself behind a shelf full of assorted objects, for Lord Voldemort had come walking into Borgin and Burkes.

"Hello, Mr Riddle," said Mr Burke in an awed sort of voice. "I've got that book for you - the one you requested. Let me go fetch it."

"Perfect. Thank you." Voldemort stepped up to the counter, and as he appeared to study the wooden countertop, he said quietly, "Morning, Miss Black."

How had he seen her? Bellatrix stepped out of the shadows and said softly, "Hello."

"Here's that book, Mr Riddle." Caractacus Burke stepped out from the back of the shop, and he refused to accept Voldemort's money. "It's on the house. Old friends are we. Happy Christmas."

"Hm. Thank you." Voldemort took the book, which was wrapped in brown paper, and tucked it under his arm. He turned to Bellatrix and said, "I was just about to get a late breakfast at the White Wyvern. Would you care to join me?"

Would she care to join him for breakfast? Bellatrix just nodded numbly. She followed him out of the shop and walked beside him in Knockturn Alley.

"You were shopping for your father," he noted, and she remembered that he was a Legilimens. She nodded.

"He's difficult to buy for. I'm not sure what to get him."

"A leather holster for his pocket-watch," Voldemort suggested. "His is getting worn, and repairing charms are just making it look shabby."

Bellatrix smirked and nodded. "I'll go into Flannery's Tannery after breakfast. Thank you."

"We can go now," Voldemort said lightly. "They're just here."

She was surprised by the way he seemed to want to spend time with her, but she didn't complain. She just let him hold the door for her at Flannery's, and she let him stand there idly examining belts and wand holsters whilst she bought her father's gift. Once it was packaged and sent to her house by owl, they headed up to the White Wyvern, and Voldemort requested a quiet table in the corner.

"What'll it be?" asked the surly-looking, busty waitress. Bellatrix saw what Voldemort meant now; he paid this witch no mind despite her obvious attempts to garner men's gaze by showing skin. He just glanced at Bellatrix so that she'd order, and Bellatrix said simply,

"Sliced apple and buttered toast, please, and a cup of tea."

"And for you, sir?" the waitress asked, sticking her chest out a bit. Voldemort considered his options for a moment, and then he said,

"A fried egg, toast, back bacon, and tea. Here; I'll pay now."

Bellatrix made a little sound of protest. "I can't let you -"

"Nonsense." He passed the coins over to the waitress, and when the girl walked away, Bellatrix mumbled, "Thank you, sir."

"I was going to get coffee," he informed her, "but seeing as how you so badly want to kiss me, and coffee so severely affects to breath, I opted for tea."

He tipped his head, and Bellatrix scoffed rather loudly.

"I said nothing of kissing you!" she hissed, and he reminded her,

"I am a Legilimens."

She didn't think she'd been  _thinking_ of kissing him, either, but then she realised that she had been. In the tannery, and then walking up the stairs here, she'd had fleeting images in her mind of kissing him, of what he'd done to her in St Albans becoming much, much deeper. Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and she whispered,

"Well, it's not as though I'd do it."

"No?" He dragged his thumb over the edge of the table. "Why not?"

"Because you'd never speak to me again!" Bellatrix blurted, and Voldemort nodded slowly. The waitress had come back with their tea, and once she'd gone again, Voldemort picked his up, sipped it, and said,

"You've performed some risk assessment, I see. You perceive that simply standing up and walking over to me and kissing me would have consequences."

"Well, of course!" Bellatrix exclaimed, and he sipped again as he asked,

"What if the context changed?"

Bellatrix blinked. "What do you mean, sir?"

The food came, and Voldemort waited for the waitress to set down their plates before he calmly took a bite of toast and then said,

"If I had to guess, a large part of your risk assessment involves knowing that I'd react badly to an unsolicited kiss in a public establishment. And you're right, of course. I would. But what if the context changed, and suddenly things weren't so very public?"

Bellatrix's face was as hot as a poker fresh out of a fire then, and she asked him in a whisper,

"Like… where?"

"Oh, I don't know," he shrugged. "The inn's rooms here at the White Wyvern. There are six of them, as you know; I've been living in Room Four for the past three months until I find a more permanent home to my liking. Anyway. I actually already ate breakfast this morning, and we're all paid through, so…"

He rose and rolled his neck a little, and he smirked down at Bellatrix, who stared up at him in wonder as she realised she was being invited to his room. Her hands shook around her teacup, and Voldemort assured her,

"Don't worry, Miss Black. It's only for a kiss, remember? Anyway, should you like to test out whether a change of context has any bearing on the outcome of your risk assessment, I shall be in Room Four. Good day."

He walked away then, leaving his fried egg and toast and bacon, and Bellatrix, behind.

* * *

She raised her fist to his door and knocked, unsure of why she was doing what she was. She was a virgin, and she needed to stay a virgin until she married whatever wizard from the Sacred Twenty-Eight her father matched to her. She knew that to be true. But here she was, at Room Four in the dingy corridor of the White Wyvern's little inn, knocking on the door.

It opened slowly, as though he hadn't been expecting her, but when he came to the door, he'd shed his outer robe and his tie and was in a white dress shirt whose sleeves he'd rolled to the elbows. That was quite sexy, Bellatrix thought. She gulped hard, thinking that he was old and she barely knew him. She walked into his room when he stepped aside, and she studied the threadbare furnishings inside.

"You live here?" she asked in disbelief. He replied, almost defensively,

"I haven't found the right permanent home yet. This is temporary."

"I see." Bellatrix turned, and suddenly he was standing very near her, hovering over her, and he slid his fingers into her curls. He shook his head, and then the haughty pretense he always carried seemed to dissolve just a tiny bit.

"I'm not certain why I find you so very attractive," he confessed, "but it has nothing to do with the dress you wore at the Malfoys' party."

"Oh." Bellatrix touched at the chest of his robes, thinking back over the past few days of him 'teaching' her, of them crossing paths. She found him attractive, too, she thought. She found him alluring. She wanted more of him. She wanted more of him  _now_. Here. Immediately.

"Bella," Voldemort said quietly, "Perform your risk assessment."

"Your hands are in my hair," she murmured, and he nodded. She blinked and studied his face. "Your lips are parted and your breath is quick. Your pupils are dilated. Your fingers are trembling."

She glanced down and saw a bulge in his trousers, and she stepped nearer to him as she whispered,

"Your body wants the kiss. You want it. If I kiss you here, in the privacy of your room, I assess that you won't mind. Moreover, I think you'll kiss me back."

"Is that what you think?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix nodded.

"That's what I think, sir. I also think that if I ask you to kiss me, you'll do it and spare me the risk entirely."

"Smart girl," he nodded. "That's the best option of all for you, isn't it? Well. Go on and do it, then."

"Please," she said, clenching her hands on the chest of his robes, staring up into his dark eyes, "Sir, will you kiss me?"

"Yes," he nodded, and he bent down, crushing her mouth with his and tasting like tea.

* * *

His tongue was firm and steady, as though he knew exactly what he was doing in kissing her. He probably did. He was so much older; he must be much more experienced. Bellatrix didn't mind. She didn't mind that he knew exactly where to put his hands on her as they kissed. She didn't mind that one bit.

He urged her out of her winter cloak and let it fall to the ground, pooling on the carpet around her feet, and she whispered,

"I must remain a virgin, sir."

"How presumptuous of you. It's warm in here from the fireplace. That's all," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix's cheeks went hotter than ever.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and he smiled a little. He cupped her jaw and bent to kiss her swiftly again, and he informed her,

"It was a wise assumption. I'd begun to undress you. But never fear, Miss Black. I've no intention of violating you in any way."

"All right," she said in a numb little voice, and she reached between them on instinct, her fingers brushing over the lump in his trousers. Her eyes went wide, and one of Voldemort's brows went up, and then he shut his eyes and whispered,

"You, on the other hand, seem to have rather nefarious intentions, Miss Black."

"I'm just curious," she admitted, and he smirked.

"Curious, eh? Well. I can teach you about that, too, if you'd like. Come here." He seized her hand and walked her over to the bed, and Bellatrix hiked her skirts up a little and climbed onto the bed as he lay on his back. She knelt beside him, round-eyed with wonder, as she asked,

"I thought you weren't going to do anything like that to me?"

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he promised. "You're going to do something to  _me_ , and in the process you'll receive yet another little lesson. How useful this lesson will be to serving my political causes? Well, that's questionable, but… I don't mind. In any case. Follow my instructions, Miss Black."

"Yes, sir," she whispered, and he murmured,

"Bend down and kiss me for a while."

She did as he said, leaning down and touching her lips to his, letting her curls fall around their faces. He reached up to hold her cheeks in his hands, and his thumbs started to rub beneath her eyes. That felt  _very_ good, and Bellatrix flushed hot and wet between her legs. She moaned a little against his mouth, and her hand went on instinct to his crotch. She started to rub at his hard lump, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and whispered,

"No, pretty girl; you'll end it all too quickly."

"Why?" Bellatrix asked him, and he just pulled her mouth onto his for a long moment, caressing the roof of her mouth with his tongue before he suckled on her lip and mumbled,

"Feels too good. That's why."

"Oh." Bellatrix knew, at least in theory, what he meant. She had touched herself before. She'd reached that point of no return, that point past which she wouldn't have been able to stop herself coming no matter what. But what did that mean for a man? She didn't know what cocks looked or felt like, much less what it felt like to own one. She sat up slowly, for her neck and back ached from bending down, and she stared down at Voldemort. She was a little breathless now, and so her chest was heaving a bit in her black wool dress. He reached to squeeze at one of her breasts, and she saw his eyes wrench shut and his teeth sink into his lip.

"You see?" he whispered. "You don't have to let these hang out for them to be appealing. Soft beneath my hands, even through fabric. Pretty shape, even through that dress. Mmph. Bella."

She was in shock then. He liked her. He  _wanted_ her. She could scarcely believe that. She blinked a few times and remembered the way Nero Selwyn and Rodolphus Lestrange and the other boys had gaped and ogled. They didn't know anything about her skills or personality. All they knew was what her chest looked like bared. Suddenly Bellatrix desperately wanted to show Voldemort her flesh, though, so that he could enjoy what he would, and she informed him,

"I'd give you all of it."

"I know you would," he nodded, his eyes still shut. His thumb toyed with the nipple that poked through her thin bra and the wool of her dress. His palm and fingers caressed the soft tissue of her breast. And then he stared up at her face and declared, "You're very beautiful. Unbutton my trousers."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix couldn't let out any more than a breathy little whisper then, for she was shaking and full of a need she'd never known she could possess. She was throbbing and swollen between her legs, and she was anxious about what she'd find in his trousers, but she did as he said. She reached to pull his white dress shirt out of his black trousers, and then she worked with trembling hands to unbutton them. She wrenched them down a little over his narrow hips and asked,

"Shall I… take it out?"

"I'll do that." Voldemort reached with one hand and smoothly extracted his cock from his underwear, and Bellatrix gasped. It was so much thicker, and so much longer, than she would have imagined.  _That_ was meant to enter a woman's body? In the space between her legs? How was that possible? She gulped hard and examined the veiny shaft, the purplish, swollen tip, and the way he moved the skin up and down with little movements of his hand. Bellatrix reached with a quivering grip to hold him, and the instant her fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft, Voldemort muttered,

" _Lubrico_. Doesn't feel good if it's dry, you know."

"Oh. All right." That made sense, somehow, so Bellatrix moved her hand up and down over his slicked-up shaft, pumping the loose skin up and around the tip. When she reached the tip and played with it, toying with its smooth tissue with her fingertips, Voldemort drove his head back and whispered again,

"It'll be all over."

"Tell me what to do," Bellatrix pleaded desperately, but Voldemort writhed a little and admitted,

"Feels too good. Just touch me."

She used both hands then, pumping them frantically from the base of his cock all the way up over his tip and back down again, and suddenly he shoved her hands away and let out a feral sort of growl. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through clenched teeth, holding his own cock at the base, and Bellatrix watched in awe as creamy white come burst up in streams and landed in puddles on his lower abdomen. Each jet seemed to trigger a fresh feeling of satisfaction within him, until at last he was spent and tired, and he lay there covered in the mess his body had made, his cock softening and flopping sideways onto his pelvis as he panted through his recovery.

" _Tergeo. Scourgify_." He wandlessly incanted the clean-up spells after a long while, and then Bellatrix noticed him cleaning up his hands, too. He tucked his spent cock away and whispered to Bellatrix, "Lie down."

"What?" She shook her head desperately and said, "You said you weren't going to -"

"Are you aroused or aren't you?" Voldemort snapped, and Bellatrix flushed with embarrassment yet again.

"Yes," she admitted, and she lay on her side beside him. She was shocked when his fingers worked their way up her skirt and between her legs, and she gasped when he pushed a few fingers into her knickers. He touched his forehead to hers and whispered,

"Do you do this to yourself, Bella?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly, and he smirked a bit.

"Good girl. You like it here?" He drew circles on her clit with his thumb, and Bellatrix gasped. She nodded, and he swallowed up her breath with his kiss. She let her tongue dance with his, and when she came, she realised she hadn't known she was only seconds away from doing so in the first place. She buried her face into the crook of Voldemort's neck and squeezed at his shoulder, and she ground herself against his hand as she clenched and contracted around the two fingers he touched to her. He groaned a little and then said softly again,

"Good girl. Pretty girl."

It took what felt like an eternity before he pulled his hand from her and adjusted her skirts, before Bellatrix sat up slowly and tried to make sense of her wild curls. She climbed off the bed and mumbled,

"That was more than I… than I intended on…"

"Have you regrets of some kind?" Voldemort demanded, and when she turned, he was adjusting his rolled-up sleeves, looking rather devastatingly handsome. She just shook her head and said,

"No, sir. No regrets at all."

"Good," he nodded. "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. What are your plans for the evening?"

Bellatrix scoffed gently and then shrugged. "I dunno. I'll have to sing carols and read books and drink cocoa with my family, probably."

"I'd like you to inform your family that, because you are of age, you have somewhere else to be. Don't tell them where," Voldemort said. "And then I'd like you to come here. You and I have a lesson to learn. I'd like you to squeeze in as much actual learning as possible before you go back to Hogwarts."

She laughed at that, and then she nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll be here. What time."

"I said  _evening_. What time do you suppose that means you should be here?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Bellatrix thought hard. He was testing her. Evening usually meant five, but it could technically mean four. She swallowed hard and said,

"I'll be here at precisely four."

He curled up his lips and walked toward her, bending to plant a little kiss on her lips. "Oh, yes. I very much look forward to your service, Miss Black. In many ways. Enjoy your day tomorrow. See you at four. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, sir." Bellatrix picked up her winter cloak, fastened it round her neck, and nodded as she turned to go.

* * *

" _Ring out the bells and ring Christmas in! Ring out the bells and ring Christmas in!_ " Bellatrix sang softly with her sisters and her parents as the piano played itself. Her mother clapped her hands merrily as the song finished, and then she said,

"Oh, let's have some cocoa, shall we?"

"I've got to run, Mum," Bellatrix said, making a move for her cloak.

"On Christmas Eve?" asked Narcissa incredulously. Cygnus demanded,

"You aren't trying to match yourself up, are you?"

"Would you all stop interrogating me?" Bellatrix snapped. She snatched her cloak off the hook and insisted, "I'm seventeen years of age. If I want to go somewhere, I will. Now, I wish you all a good evening, but I'm off. Goodbye."

Before they could protest, she Disapparated, and when she came to, she was in Knockturn Alley outside the White Wyvern. She quickly put on her cloak and hurried into the building, climbing the steps and rushing through the pub. She was almost late. It was 3:59. She dashed up the little winding staircase that led to the inn rooms, and the instant she reached Room Four, the door swung open, and she was breathless before Lord Voldemort. He already had leather gloves on, along with a heavy hooded cloak. He stepped out into the corridor and frowned.

"Where are your gloves?" he demanded, and Bellatrix looked down at her bare hands.

"I hurried out of the house," she said. "I didn't have time to grab them."

Voldemort huffed and turned back into his room. He aimed his wand at his wardrobe, Summoned a pair of gloves, and then handed them over to Bellatrix. She put them on, and though they were far too big, she said,

"Thank you, sir."

He rolled his eyes and incanted, " _Diminuendo._  Are you hungry?"

"Erm…" Bellatrix was actually quite famished, if she admitted it. She nodded, and Voldemort smirked.

"We're going to go to the Leaky Cauldron and  _not. get. caught,_ " he said. "Confounding is a nonverbal spell. I'm going to show you the first few times, and the next time you and I are together, I'll want you to do it yourself. You understand?"

"Yes, sir." She smiled a bit at him, and he nodded crisply, shutting the door to his room. He pulled his hood up around his head, and as he walked with Bellatrix down the stairs and out through the pub, he asked,

"Are you having quite a merry Christmas Eve?"

"Very merry," Bellatrix said. "We've already opened our gifts. Mum couldn't wait. I got new emerald earrings from Mum and Dad, new lipstick from Andromeda, new perfume from Narcissa. It's been pleasant."

"Glad to hear it." Voldemort sounded as though he really didn't care, but she still dared to ask him,

"With whom are you spending your Christmas, sir?"

He scoffed and shook his head as they stepped out into Knockturn Alley. "Oh, no. No, no. I'm as solitary as an oyster. You wouldn't catch me spending a holiday with anyone."

"Well, you're spending Christmas Eve with me, sir," Bellatrix pointed out, and he tipped his head.

"That's different."

She wanted to ask him how and why it was different, but she resisted the urge. Instead she followed him up the steps from Knockturn Alley into Diagon Alley, and then down the way toward the Leaky Cauldron. Once they were in there, they got all kinds of stares, for Tom Riddle was very well known. He said quietly to the barkeep,

"The private booth, if you will."

The barkeep vibrated just a little, and Bellatrix suddenly realised he'd been Confounded. No one else was looking for that, though, so no one else noticed. The barkeep nodded and said loudly,

"Alyppa! Take these two to the private booth."

"Couldn't have been more discreet?" Voldemort muttered impatiently, but he followed the busty Alyppa as she led him and Bellatrix to the curtained booth in the corner of the pub. In there, a semi-circular wooden booth and table were ensconced by a dark paneled wall. Bellatrix sat and slid in closer to Voldemort, and he said quietly to Alyppa,

"I'd like a firewhisky and a water. And the lady would like…?"

"The same," Bellatrix said confidently. Once Alyppa had gone, Voldemort asked her in surprise,

"Firewhisky?"

"You didn't think I could drink the stuff?" Bellatrix teased. "Oh, I can drink the stuff. Believe you me."

"Hmm." He smiled a little, and his dark eyes twinkled. Suddenly he looked a little hungry, and he murmured, "I'd like to propose a wager."

"A wager?" Bellatrix raised her brows.

"If you can finish two tumblers of firewhisky without passing out or getting sick, I'll buy you any Christmas gift you want in Diagon Alley," Voldemort said, and she laughed rather uproariously.

"That's a joke, isn't it?"

"No, it wasn't," he said seriously, and her smile vanished. She took off the leather gloves he'd shrunk for her, and she said quietly,

"You've already given me a gift; I'll drink the whisky."

"What gift?" Voldemort asked, and she brushed her thumb over the shrunken gloves.

"Let me keep these."

His face shifted a little, and he shrugged. "I said I'd buy you anything you -"

"Let me keep these," she said again, and when his eyes met hers this time, he licked his bottom lip and told her,

"Keep the gloves and drink only as much whisky as you'd like."

"We both win, then," she said, for the tumblers of firewhisky had come and she immediately knocked hers back. They ordered meat pies, and Bellatrix watched as Voldemort Confounded the waitress into thinking he'd already paid. As she finished her first tumbler of firewhisky, the meat pies came, and she joked softly to Voldemort,

"These only cost a few Sickles each. You're wasting all this energy over hardly any money."

"It's not about the money, you silly girl," he said, and his own voice slurred a little from his own drinking. "It's about the power. It's about… knowing that you could have paid and you didn't. Knowing that someone will be confused and chastised later adding up the coins because of you. It's about  _that_ , Bellatrix. And it's about not getting caught. Don't you see?"

"Yes. I see." She swigged quickly at her second tumbler of firewhisky, feeling it swim in her head, and she cleared her burning throat. She cut into her meat pie and chewed a bite, and she asked in a blur, "What were we talking about, again?"

Voldemort laughed and said in an accusatory tone, "You're already drunk."

"So what if I am?" Bellatrix fired back. "You encouraged me."

She ate a little more meat pie, and then she rather impulsively reached up to snare her fingers through Voldemort's greying dark hair. He turned to look down at her, and she whispered,

"You're so handsome."

"Bella." He put his fork down and drank his water, and he shook his head. "We can't… shouldn't… you're drunk."

"So are you, I think," Bellatrix nodded. "And it's Christmas Eve, and you said you don't spend holidays with anybody."

"I don't," he insisted.

"But you're with me," Bellatrix reminded him, and his throat bobbed as he gulped.

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'm going to keep these," Bellatrix said, and she slid back on the leather gloves that she'd taken from him, the ones that he'd shrunken so they'd fit her hands. She felt like her head was floating somewhere else then as she added, "I'm going to wear them back to the White Wyvern."

"Back to the White… back to the White Wyvern?" He sounded weak and tired, and when she looked up at him, his lips had parted and his cheeks had flushed. She nodded, and she said quietly,

"I know this really handsome man in Room Four. I think I'd like to go visit him. Pay him a Christmas visit. Carol for him a bit, perhaps."

Voldemort quirked up his lips and asked, "Do you sing?"

"I do whatever you want me to do," Bellatrix said gravely, and suddenly he was giving her a very serious look. He took her face in his hands and whispered,

"Don't tease me. It's obvious I want you."

"You should take what you want," Bellatrix informed him. "You're Lord Voldemort. Perform your risk assessment."

He grinned and dragged his teeth over his lip as he whispered,

"You're drunk, which makes you vulnerable and also means your inhibitions are lowered. It also makes you susceptible to regret tomorrow. But I can see through the intoxication. You got drunk in part because you wanted me to take you back to the White Wyvern. You wanted an excuse."

"Yes," Bellatrix nodded, and Voldemort blinked slowly.

"You wanted a reason for me to take your knickers off you."

"Yes," Bellatrix hummed, and Voldemort's fingers tightened on her cheeks as he let out a low sort of whimper and declared,

"I've finished eating. Let's go."

* * *

They were sloppy climbing the stairs up to the White Wyvern, and even sloppier careening through the pub. They were still staggering up the steps to the inn rooms of the White Wyvern when Voldemort said firmly to Bellatrix,

"I'm going to teach you a lesson today."

"You are?" she asked drunkenly, and he nodded and informed her,

"I'm going to teach you how to wait. You're going to learn… mmph. How to wait."

"Wait for what?" Bellatrix asked worriedly as they stepped up to Room Four. Voldemort laughed, unlocked the door with wandless magic, and shoved the door open. He pushed Bellatrix inside and ordered her,

"Take off your clothes."

"What?" Bellatrix was shocked by his insistence, and yet she felt wet between her legs at the way he'd ordered her so roughly.

"You heard me; you are not deaf," Voldemort said, and he stripped off his gloves and cloak. Bellatrix trembled as she took off the gloves he'd shrunk for her and her own winter cloak. She had on a simple but elegant black velvet dress beneath, which she peeled up and off. She revealed her black lace bra and knickers, and Voldemort told her,

"Leave those on. And the boots. I like the boots. Get on the bed."

She moaned a little at being ordered about so much, and she crawled onto his bed and lay on her back like he'd commanded. He growled a little from where he stood, and he said in a low voice,

"Intelligent little creature. Dark little thing. I like you.  _Incarcerous._ "

Bellatrix gasped as one of her hands was suddenly lashed to the heavy wooden headboard. She couldn't move her wrist no matter how hard she tried; he'd Conjured thin little ropes. He repeated the spell with her other hand, and suddenly she was bound to his bed. That made her so aroused she could hardly breathe.

"You like it," he teased her, stalking around the bed. "You like being tied up, pretty little girl. Don't you?"

"By  _you_ , yes," she answered rather drunkenly. She squirmed a little, and he informed her,

"Now you can't touch yourself. Now  _I_ am fully in control of what happens to you. If I want to do this, I can. Ready? No? Oh, well.  _Gaudens._ "

She gasped, for the sensation of a climax washed over her out of absolutely nowhere. She bucked her hips up against the air as she felt her body shaking, her walls contracting. Her ears rang and she saw spots, and she cried out,

"Ahhh! M...Master…"

"What was that?" he asked in disbelief. "Not that I mind the title; just want to be certain I'm not hallucinating."

"It felt like the right thing to say," Bellatrix huffed, and he bent down suddenly, kissing her hard. His tongue delved into her mouth, then licked her lips, and he informed her,

"It  _was_  the right thing to say. Say it again."

"Master," she whispered. "Master."

"Good girl." He pet her hair and kissed her cheekbone. "You taste like firewhisky, you drunk little pretty girl. Why do I know that someday you'll kill for me? You will, won't you? You'll set fires and kill for me?"

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix drawled, and he kissed her mouth again as he groaned with pleasure. He crawled up onto the bed with her, and one of his hands went between her legs. He dragged his fingertips over the crotch of her knickers, around the wet lace, and he put his lips beside her ear.

"So wet," he murmured. "She's so wet, the pretty little creature. Mmm. I like her wet. I do. I wonder what she tastes like. Perhaps I ought to find out. Should I find out, Bellatrix? Should I find out what you taste like  _there_? I'll bet it's not firewhisky."

"Master." Bellatrix arched her back up, and Voldemort laughed at her as he pushed a few fingers into her knickers and pulsed two fingers against her. He dipped two of the fingers inside of her entrance, hooking them against the front of her body, and he whispered,

"I'll lick you there another day, so that you're looking forward to it. Mmm. I'll look forward to it, too. Today, I'll just take a little sample, hmm?"

He brought his hand out out of Bellatrix's knickers and his fingers to his lips, and he suckled hard on his fingertips. He tipped his head back and groaned loudly, whispering,

"Delicious."

Bellatrix laughed a little, but he squeezed hard at one of her breasts and shook his head. He moved to hoved atop her, and he ground his erection against her abdomen through his trousers.

"I'm not joking around," he informed her. "It's delicious, and that's no jape. Do you think my cock thinks it's funny? No. My cock is aching, ready to come any moment. But I'll wait. I'll be patient, and so will you. You'll learn your lesson. You'll learn to be patient."

He sat back a little then and pulled out his wand. He murmured,

" _Vibratio._ " Then he touched the buzzing tip of the wand to the crotch of Bellatrix's knickers, and she gasped. He began to stroke his own cock through his trousers, and apparently staring down at her breasts through her lace bra, at her face, was very arousing for him. She could see a little spot of fluid on the material of his trousers, and as he dragged his fingers around, he actually muttered,

"Fuck. Fuck.  _Fuck_ ," and he ripped his hand away. Bellatrix was incredibly turned on by that, by the idea that he'd nearly finished inside his clothes, and she arched her breasts up and fluttered her eyes shut.

"I'm going to come," she mumbled, for she could feel everything tightening as his wand buzzed against her. But he tore it away and commanded,

"Oh, no, you're not.  _Finite Incantatem._ "

Suddenly he climbed off of her. Bellatrix was so confused; she felt her arousal dissolve a little. But then Voldemort stood beside the bed and quickly unbuttoned his trousers. He took his cock out, long and stern and thick, and and he wrapped his hadn around it.

"Pretty body," he purred. "Pretty, young body. Mmm. Oh, Bella."

He began to pump his hand, but after just a few seconds, he stopped again, and Bellatrix understood. He was bringing himself to the edge and back again. He reached with his left hand and stroked between her legs, then up at her hard nipple through lace, and she felt herself getting close again. She gasped and warned him,

"I'm going to. I'm going…"

"No." He pulled his hands off of them both and took a step back. Then he shook his head and admitted, "Too late. Bloody hell."

He grasped his cock and walked right up to the side of the bed, and suddenly his come was leaping all over Bellatrix's stomach, landing on her flesh the way it had landed on his the day before. She breathed heavily as she watched it happen, and she distantly heard him mutter,

" _Emancipare… Emancipare…"_

Her hands were freed. She rushed to touch herself as soon as she could, staring at all of his come on her stomach and shoving her hand into her knickers. She came within just a moment, and it was like a Blasting Curse had gone off. Her breath and senses were gone for a long moment, and she just whispered over and over again,

"Master… Master…"

It felt like forever that she lay there, a complete mess, covered in his seed with her hand in her own knickers. She was sweaty. She was drunk. It was Christmas Eve. She didn't care. She was completely enamoured by him, by everything he was and represented, and so he was her master now. He must be.

When he cleaned her up, he helped her dress, and he said in an almost kind voice,

"Stay here until you sober up. I'll give you a potion to help speed it along. And then go home to your family. But know that I look forward, Miss Black, to your service. Genuinely and truly, I look forward to your service."

He smiled down at her, and she just nodded. "Happy Christmas, Master. You've already taught me so much."

"Pretty girl." He bent and brushed his lips against her cheekbone. "How could I ever not notice you, hm? Let's get you sober. Happy Christmas."

THE END.


End file.
